Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Ice Ice Baby
Dancing On Ice – ReviewedITV Sunday 22nd February 2009
I try very hard not to pre-judge any TV shows I watch, and I had to try with added extra effort with Dancing On Ice. I had expected it to be camp, loud, and unashamed, and it was all of those, but why shouldn’t it be?
I expected to find the sheer length of the show, split into two sections, too much, and a turn-off. The truth is that I loved it.
Introduced by Phillip Schofield and Holly Willoughby, the show essentially takes over on ITV on Sunday evenings. I had heard of Ms Willoughby but, as they say, I had not seen her work, and who could ever find anything to dislike about Phillip Schofield? He manages the difficult task of coming across as a thoroughly good chap, without straying into the zone of blandness, so prevalent on early evening mainstream television.
In this review, I won’t go into detail about the background of all the contestants. That’s why the internet was invented, with its handmaidens, Google and Wikipedia. Neither will I stray into the world of terrible puns that leap out of the page at me, ‘skating on thin ice’ et al.
The show started on an odd note. For no discernible reason, other than to follow the format of old variety shows, we found ourselves watching Will Young, standing on a box, on the ice rink. Now, Will can really sing, and equally, can sustain a performance without the requirement of ‘added extras’.
However, extras we got – in the form of Christopher Dean and Jayne Torvill, skating around poor Will as he tried to get his latest single across to us. It isn’t that Christopher and Jayne aren’t welcome to turn up with their ‘blades’ and their chemistry and all, it’s just that turning up at that moment was like… well it was like David Beckham taking a free kick to win us the World Cup, and looking up to see Darcey Bussell giving us her Sugar Plum Fairy in the penalty area.
The first two celebrity dancers were Zoe Salmon, and then, Melinda Messenger. Both did ok, but I would have been a bit lost without Tony Gubba’s summary of these ‘required elements’ that all the contenders had to include in their performance.
Next, we had the old tried and tested insert, when emotions are flagging. Donal MacIntyre was ‘presented’ with a tear inducing video message from his children. I think the last time I saw MacIntyre on television was when he was having his laptop nicked, from some inner city tower block, during one of those undercover shows he used to front. Because of the extremely skimpy nature of his dancing costume, we could see that Donal had nothing on him worth stealing this time.
He was doing fine, then wobbled and didn’t quite recover, leading to lower scores from the judges.
Ah yes – the judges! We have to employ judges. There is a rather complicated procedure to ensure that one dancing couple is dropped each week. Suffice to say that the judges’ marks account for fifty per cent of the total.
There are five of ‘em, which is probably at least one, if not two, more than required, in terms of speaking parts. Of course, we need the ‘one the crowd have to boo’, and with Simon Cowell busy elsewhere, the mantle of boo-boy is worn by Jason Gardiner, who first came to our attention on the British version of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.
Gardiner laps up this role like a smooth and silky Siamese cat elegantly licking the last of the cream.
Four of these five judges have some background in ice skating. The odd woman out, is West End and Broadway hoofer, Ruthie Henshall. We can say with some confidence, that Ruthie can sing, dance and act, but her qualifications to comment on, and judge, celebrity ice skaters are less obvious. Most of her remarks are set in a context of a lack of understanding, and a bluster that does not suit her personality. God Bless Ruthie and all that, but what she is doing here is a mystery, that could only possibly be unravelled by close questioning of the production team, and Ruthie’s agent.
It was after Donal MacIntyre’s performance that I had an epiphany moment. I found myself pondering on the purpose of this show. Then I thought "What The Hell?" and gave in to the sheer joie de vivre of the whole thing, the humour, the campness and the fun of it all.
A likeable gal called Roxanne turned up next, and she had, apparently, tried a particular routine called (rather wonderfully) the ‘headbanger manoeuvre’ last week, and it hadn’t worked. I should stress that this is rather more meaningful than ‘not working’ as the manoeuvre involves the participant being hurled around by the ankles, some inches above the ice. I suspect it is not called the headbanger without due cause.
Roxanne survived this routine, completing the scary whirling round by the ankles thing, and kept all her facial features intact for another week.
Next up was Jessica Taylor, from Liberty X, and wife of Kevin Pietersen, the England cricketer, who managed to be captain last year for about five minutes, and then wasn’t again.
Jessica too had the emotional video message. Kevin Pietersen was in the West Indies and about to lose a test match, but didn’t know it at the time, as he relayed his best wishes to his missus. It was as if phones had never been invented.
The last two on the ice were from the ends of the skating spectrum. Ray Quinn had, it seemed, not shown much empathy with the ice dancing world during his short showbiz career, but in this show, he has proved to be a natural. He has confidence, poise, and an affinity with his dancing partner that belies their short time together.
Ahem… on the other hand, day time TV presenter, Coleen Nolan, has as much talent for ice dancing as Kate Winslet would for wrestling.
Coleen, her skates, her partner, and the ice, do not make up a winning team. However, someone on these shows always has to be on ‘a journey’ and it is Coleen’s fate to have a one way ticket through to the next round, presumably on the sympathy vote.
The show is then brought to a pause, and we are given the phone numbers to call, to vote for our favourites. ITV then showed an episode of the usual type of Sunday evening programming (Wild At Heart, a sort of Doctor Doolittle in South Africa).
When we return, an hour later, the first fifteen minutes of the second show are spent watching a ‘greatest hits’ of the earlier hour. This induces a strange and alarming sense of déjà vu to the unwary, and anyone who fell asleep during Wild At Heart would think they were in a Lost style time shift.
The two dancers who poll the lowest scores have a ‘dance off’ and then the five judges decide who stays and who goes. Oddly, all of this was the least compelling part of the show. Perhaps if you have followed from the beginning and have adopted a favourite, it means more to that regular viewer.
The usual tension, now so part of the fabric of elimination shows, as the judges gave their verdict, and suddenly it was all over. Phillip Schofield had to shout, literally, in an audio mixing nightmare, over the top of the applauding and cheering crowd, and they were gone, along with Melinda Messenger, who received no votes from the panel, and expected to be voted out, before they had even danced their way through the eliminator.
Dancing On Ice won’t break any new ground in our understanding of the human condition. It probably won’t win any BAFTAs. It will almost certainly never feature in our memories longer than its life span.
Will I watch it next Sunday? Dammit I suspect I will.
# posted by Terence : 10:12 PM
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Cooking With Lamb
Come Dine With MeFood and television is not often a happy marriage. Cooking programmes, in particular, find themselves at Relate trying to save the marriage, not for the sake of the children, but for the welfare of the raspberry coulis.
The beauty of food, and the consumption of it, is of course, a multi-sensory experience. In reality, we see it, smell it, touch it, taste it, hopefully don’t hear it, but you see what I mean.
On tv, the best we can hope for is a two dimensional hint at what has been cooked, which is why, since the early days of television, cookery shows have relied on personality and individuality to make the programme a success. To this day, we still rely on a cohort or ‘guest’ of the chef, to have a tasting on our behalf, and we can only judge by the level of the ‘oooh!’ and the ‘mmmm!’ whether the dish is a success.
Fanny Cradock presented food in the manner of a headmistress, chiding the nation, and dishing out lines with the ration coupon recipes. Appearing in the kitchen in evening gown and pearls, Fanny would berate her (not really married…) husband, Johnny, and cartoon henpecked husbands across the land winced as they peeled the spuds.
In the late sixties and early seventies, Graham Kerr, the ‘Galloping Gourmet’ became the staple diet of afternoon viewing with his glamorous, frantic personality, and his penchant for using rich ingredients. Kerr would finish the show by finding a pretty woman from the audience, with whom he would flirtingly share the dish he had just prepared.
Pretty much nothing changed in the eighties, nineties and now the noughties. Chefs and cooks came and went. From the irritating Worrall Thompson to the extravagant use of language of Ramsey; from the homely Delia to the sensuous Nigella, they drifted into our homes, and bookshelves, and away again.
In four years, Come Dine With Me has moved on from being one of those programmes students enjoy instead of attending lectures, and indeed has moved on from putting the focus on food.
In a relatively unchanged format, five people, unknown to one another, each host a dinner party on successive days of the week, secretly voting marks out of ten for each other, at the end of the evening’s ‘fun’. The winner, at the end of each week, receives one thousand pounds.
However, the show is now rather less about the food, and more about the social interaction between the contenders, and more vitally, the voiceover style commentary of Dave Lamb.
Opinions are split about Lamb’s contribution. He may be a comedy genius, adding a layer of hilarity that has made the programme compulsive viewing, or he is a smug ‘know-it-all’ whose clever dick comments destroy the warm nature of the show. I pretty much go with the former view.
Much of the appeal may be in the certainty of the format. These days we can be almost certain that the five ‘cooks’ will include, the camp one, the posh one, the aggravating one, the eccentric one, and the normal-ish one (who never wins).
To appeal to the voyeur in viewers, we also get to poke about in each contender’s house, peeping into cupboards and closets, where the quirkiness and individuality of people’s lives can often be displayed.
The show doesn’t really give enough scope for ‘Big Brother’ style show-offs to try and use the few minutes of screen time to audition for ‘fame’. The twenty-four minutes, each day, are tightly, and superbly, edited, to ensure we concentrate on the relationships between the participants, and on any quirks of the individuals. The editing suite loves nothing more than a dish going wrong, and how the moment is, or isn’t, resolved.
A glass of wine spilled on a sofa, a dropped anchovy, or a soufflé that won’t rise, and the camera lingers, whilst Dave Lamb spices up the commentary.
Of course, it is unlikely that any of us would ever have a semi-formal dining experience with the same people over five successive days, unless, of course, you are maitre d’ at The Wolseley. This unusual aspect of closeness to five strangers adds to the possibilities of passing friendship or, alternatively, alienation, and magnifies the campness or poshness, allowing Dave Lamb free rein with the capricious, comedic, discourse.
Naturally, Come Dine With Me will have a shelf life, just like that jar of mixed spices at the back of the cupboard, and we will get fed up with it in time, until it returns in 2015 in a burst of nostalgia, where it will be introduced by Ant & Dec.
Until that day, we can pretend to be interested in the recipes, and the winner of the thousand pounds, whilst sniggering at Dave Lamb’s asides, and wondering why so many people have feather boas at the back of their closets.
As a contestant, Fanny Cradock would have thought she had stumbled into hell on earth. She would have blamed it all on Johnny and written a stiff letter to the Daily Telegraph.
"I’m awarding Fanny a three, because she threw the Yorkshire pudding at me."
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 9:11 PM
Sunday, February 01, 2009
The Chuckle Brothers
Match Of The Day - 31st January 2009It has to be accepted, of course, that the most important issue in sports coverage, is that we see the action. We can't really complain about that these days, with the multitude of camera angles, and the introduction of High Definition (even though HD is not yet used effectively) viewing.
However, it would be handy if sometimes we cut away from the fifth replay of an insignificant corner, when we can hear the crowd's growing excitement at some action happening 'live', whilst at home we continue to muse on Scott Carson missing his punch.
The theme music for Match Of The Day (MOTD) is a bright, cheery, piece of music that is so associated with football that just hearing the opening bars immediately evokes memories of Barry "Just Look At His Face" Davies, Clive Thomas of Treorchy, and Ron Harris 'tackling' Tony Currie whilst simultaneously sending him into the front row of the main stand.
Tricky then, that after that brassy, upbeat intro, we are met with the slightly baleful (these days) face of Gary Lineker. Now I know that we all think of Gary as the second greatest living Englishman behind Stephen Fry, but it is debatable if the former England striker fits into the right sort of format we seek in 2009. Yes, I know it is heresy to write such potential calumny, but listen to Five Live when Danny Baker is running the phone in, and we can see how different it could be. Danny, of course, does not translate to some strands of television. He can become a bit overwhelmed and go a bit 'silly'. However, it is the style of presentation to which I refer.
So, here we are, with Gary, dressed from head to toe in funereal black, and joining him, on the inevitable sofa, BBC Sport's version of the Chuckle Brothers - Alan Hansen and Alan Shearer. One dressed in black and grey; the other in grey and black. We don't need these fellows to wear clown costumes, but couldn't someone from 'Wardrobe' find them something a little less... downbeat?
I have no doubt that as another season approaches, each Head of Sports Broadcasting (these men - it is always men - must have their job roles in capital letters) ponders on how they can edge away from the 'suited presenter/three ex-professionals in a line' format, but come September, there's Ruud Gullit and Mark 'Lawro' Lawrenson back with us once more.
There have been minor attempts at change. However, plonking Andy Townshend and Ally McCoist on the edge of the pitch with a little occasional table was always doomed to fail, as they increasingly desperately shoved their ear pieces ever further into their ear canals in a hopeless attempt to pick up whatever Gaby/Steve/whoever is saying back up in the tiny conservatory balanced precariously above the corner flag.
This week, on MOTD, they got the basics right. We saw all the goals, and the major action with its attendant talking points.
First up was Manchester United at home to Everton. The team with multiple strikers against the team with none.
Not much happened, which was handy as I was transfixed by the orange nature of Cristiano Ronaldo's face, and the head wear adopted by Carlos Tevez, which suggested he had made a quick stop at Claire's Accessories before turning up at Old Trafford.
After a routine 1-0 win, we were reminded of the animosity that Sir Alex Ferguson still holds for the BBC as he refuses all interviews, and up to the plate stepped Mike Phelan, the assistant manager, to say the sort of meaningless nothingness that club representatives say every week.
So the rest of the show drifted past, with Wigan in their highlighter pen coloured yellow shirts erecting some sort of force field in front of their goal, and later, the increasingly dire defending of Portsmouth, once again sending them to defeat.
Fans of WWF would have enjoyed the mass bundle at Stoke, which followed Rory Delap's grouchy 'tackle' on Shaun Wright-Phillips.
Throughout, we returned to the laconic Gary, and the gloom riddled features of Alan H. and Alan S.
It feels as if they are self censoring as they comment, as if in fear of upsetting the great, the good, and the not so good, amongst their former playing and managerial colleagues, which is why we maybe need a change.
A presenter who loves football, but who does not owe his living to it, and after-match commentators who will say what we are thinking, or better still, bring us insights that we may have missed, without checking whether they may upset the power brokers and 'controllers' of the greatest game that ever there was.
Until then, the 'Sofa Men' will continue to tell us that 'the lad will be disappointed with that shot' as the expensive import balloons the ball out of the ground, and 'that may have been a touch over the top' as the midfield general scythes a tackle at the hapless forward's midriff.
Give them a red card, and bring football television coverage forward by a century or two.
# posted by Terence : 8:12 PM
Monday, January 26, 2009
And In The End...
CBB6 Day Twenty TwoWell we didn't see that coming, did we? The bookmakers certainly didn't either. Even when there was only Terry and Ulrika left, Paddy Power was quoting odds on for Terry.
Before we wonder about how it all imploded, we must look back on that last day. Ermmm, nothing happened. The last task or two weren't even screened (they must have been great, eh?).
There was an awful, awful, period where Verne and Ulrika were left alone at the kitchen table, and it was like a scene from the dinner party from Hades, like a demonic version of a Mike Leigh drama. Verne failed to engage in any sort of conversation with Ulrika, and initially, she sort of squirmed and fiddled with her hair in a kind of desperate subconscious plea for the ground to open up and swallow her whole ("provided I get my fee", would have been her last words).
Verne acted as if he had found himself next to that person on a tube train who sits next to you when there are twenty other seats free, and asks you if you have found Jesus.
Coolio made a brief appearance in the middle of this disaster of social etiquette and graces and informed us that the fastest way to get over a woman, is to get another one. He said this in the manner of a fellow who has just learned that the gearbox on his VW Passat has fallen off somewhere on the M40 and is planning to replace it with a Nissan Micra.
But then, he wandered off and Ulrika and Verne were alone again. Time stood still.
I've no idea how Ulrika came to win the thing, and I'm not sure she knows herself. It is possibly that the others lost it rather than she won it. Terry Christian's comment about 'the kind of people who vote' may well have been his kamikaze farewell to the winner's podium. Verne really should not have got into that strange and unnerving business with the doll, and Coolio - well he just kept being Coolio.
As the last few contenders left, Ulrika couldn't help herself. We had that quirky "be strong" comment again, this time as Ben left, and there she was holding the door for him. Verne got waved away by Ulrika with a "Hasta La Vista".
I was worried that she may confuse herself when it was time for her to climb those unforgiving stairs, and she may enter a sort of time and space vacuum, where Ulrika was constantly saying "be strong" to herself, whilst holding the door for herself to walk through.
I haven't watched Big Brother's Big Mouth since The Man Of Whom We Dare Not Speak left the show a couple of seasons ago. But unable to find the strength to clamber off the sofa, I watched the 'episode' that immediately followed the crowning of Ulrika.
It was....indescribably dreadful. Except I will try to describe it.
The rather well educated Jack Whitehall (who had previously seemed 'ok' when he was popping up in trailers for his show) seemed to go thoroughly berserk, and lose any sense of how to present a cup of tea, never mind a live show.
He overtalked. He didn't listen to the answer of questions he posed. He used the 'f'' word about three times in each sentence, and the mere use of the word elicited huge gales of laughter and cheers from the baying crowd in the tiny studio.
It felt like there had been no rehearsal and no prepared gags or 'funny' lines. It was all ad-hoc and anarchic, which may seem a cracking idea when proposed at a treatment brainstorming session in the creative department, but actually falls flatter than the Guinness Book Of World Records flattest pancake award winner when the presenter can't cope with the speed and the need for a sparky, right off the centre of the bat response to a remark or situation.
To follow in the wake of Russell Brand was always going to be a tough assignment, but this didn't get anywhere close, and it left the ending of the twenty plus days, in the hands of that eternally irritating bloke from Heat magazine, and a few humourless hacks spread around the howling crowd. It meant we ended on a confused low, but, you know, it doesn't matter.
As soon as they leave the house, the celebrities aren't even half as interesting any more. This turns out to be the greatest truism each year.
The minute they walk down those steps, accompanied by shrieking and booing, they become one of us again, and that diminishes them back to the foibles and cares of the 'outside world'. There is no gold at the end of the BB rainbow.
Except for Ulrika's fee, of course...
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 7:14 PM
Friday, January 23, 2009
In The Soup
CBB6 Day Twenty OneSome days, it must be hard being a member of the Jackson family, and not being the one called Michael. LaToya must occasionally have a burning urge to shout, "I'm LaToya, not Michael! If you want to know about Michael, go ask Michael! I'm LaToya!"
Since the excruciating conversation she had to endure with Tina, a couple of weeks back, LaToya has not had to face another awkward grilling, but yesterday, it was time for round two.
LaToya has grace, and she wanted to defend her brother, but was also very aware that every word she says is closely examined and quoted, and then remixed and re-released.
No wonder she doesn't like to leave the family compound in Encino. This was echoed by her reluctance to leave her bedroom in the mornings, and her occasional uncomfortableness amongst 'other people'.
However... some of this is a little hard to reconcile with the fact that she has made something of a career from 'reality' type shows, in recent years. Her 'I used to be a policewoman' persona is based on her appearing in another reality show in the States, 'Armed and Famous', which was dropped by CBS after initial screenings in January 2007.
There is, though, something rather charming and likeable about LaToya. It would seem she is very aware that she is booked for these things in the hope of the defences dropping and some indiscretion or other being 'revealed', but she carries on regardless, and, no doubt, will turn up again in some celebrity based piece of tomfoolery before too long.
The tasks, as with the evictions, haven't really had the dramatic effect on the celebrity version when compared to the longer, summer shows. These famous people simply don't care about being evicted. They aren't really seeking a place on the starting grid of fame. They are already running on that track, and so it is not going to be the life changing punishment it is to the non-celebs, if they are booted out, or fail a task, rendering themselves unpopular enough to be nominated by their peers in the house.
So, licking mirrors, armpits or whatever, is simply a diversion for a few minutes, rather than a make or break event. When Tommy was asked (the horror, the fear!) to drink a couple of cold drinks, you could feel the anti-climax in the air. Ulrika's bid at licking a fish eyeball was considered too dull to even screen it.
It would seem sensible, if you ever invite Verne round to your house for the evening, to give him alcohol in teaspoon sized portions, as he had a slightly bigger amount to drink, and went nuts on his scooter again, mowing down chairs (and Ben and Coolio if they hadn't leaped out of the way).
Verne remains the red hot favourite to win. We shall see, shortly...
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 7:28 PM
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Hail To The Chief
CBB6 Day TwentyWe've had a few rather odd incidents over the last day or so. I found the clip of Verne kissing that doll a bit...strange...
I probably wasn't alone, as the snippet was cut from the repeat of the highlights show. Why would anyone edit that bit out if there wasn't some concern expressed?
Then, during the inauguration, we had Coolio giving a 'salute' that was much in vogue in the late 1960s, but surely the election of President Obama is for all American citizens and not just for a section of the community?
Ulrika gave a big, big, sigh, and offered us her analysis of LaToya, who, Ulrika felt, was ingratiating herself to the other housemates, particularly the men. Probably true, but no great insight, as that is the behaviour exhibited by several housemates each year, if they wish to be serious contenders.
Delicate LaToya let out a wail when she first encountered the rodeo task, yet, as with other, earlier, tasks she put her heart into it and survived the experience.
Never was the notion that the UK and the USA are two nations divided by a common language, shown more unremittingly than in the housemates' behaviour during the new President's inauguration. Several of the European contingent felt obliged to give a running commentary with, one housemate in particular, making very derogatory remarks about the last President.
Now before we get on our 'high horse', and begin to tell our US cousins to calm down a bit, we should examine how these differences occur.
Because we are a monarchy led democracy, we can criticise Mr Brown or Mr Cameron, and it is not considered unpatriotic, as we have the Queen as our nation's figurehead. So consequently, she stands above the politicians, and we can respect our Queen and Country, but still 'have a go' at MPs; even parody them, and make them the butt of jokes. It doesn't reflect on the country as a whole, merely on the individuals who put themselves up for office.
But, the USA is a republic. They don't have a monarchy, or non-elected representative, like our Royal Family. So the President, elected though he may be, is not only the political leader, he is also the icon that stands for all that is the USA, and the American people see the President as emblematic. Regardless of who received their vote, as soon as the election is over, everyone supports the President.
In was in this context that LaToya made her very valid point, that the 'non-Americans' should have viewed the proceedings with respect. Criticism of the USA and the President hurts American people to their soul. Disrespect of the President is treated as disrespect of the country and its people.
Even if much of humanity outside of the USA has qualms and concerns about recent American (in particular military) behaviour throughout the globe, it could be deemed to be very inconsiderate to choose Barack Obama's inauguration as the moment to launch into an anti USA rant. In fact, it was simply bad manners, at the very least.
So it is a 'well said' and cheerio to Latoya, who conducted herself with dignity, and left with equal grace.
An expert in psychological analysis might be able to tell us why Ulrika feels compelled to be the person who says the last word to the evictee, and feels equally strongly, that she simply must hold the door open for the housemate to leave, standing there watching them amble up the steps.
Perhaps she feels she is the mother hen, sending her little chicks out into the world.
Or maybe she's thinking, "I wonder if I can leg it up there and escape behind LaToya?'.
Too late Ms Jonsson, you're there to the end now, girl.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 6:21 PM
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Ask All The Men
CBB6 Day NineteenAll of us can tell we're getting near the end now. The housemates look weary, and need the stimulation of tasks and rewards to get themselves out of bed or off the sofas.
Similarly, at home, we may find ourselves equally acknowledging with satisfaction that we are in the last days.
It hasn't been a particularly bad series, but it has run out of steam on the last lap.
One or two of the tasks have also seemed a bit tired too. We've had the 'make a play/movie/drama out of the events in the house' before, of course. This time round, I felt, we spent too much time on the 'making of', rather than watching the actual footage, and simply watching the housemates' movie might have worked out to be more fun for both them and us.
Ulrika carried out an endearing self parody as she re-enacted her arrival in the house, but of course, she had to first check where her marker was for her piece to camera, as she appeared to forget she was facing a hand held camera grasped in the lap of Verne Troyer, rather than being cast in a remake of The Godfather. Or in this case, The Godmother.
Terry portrayed the unlamented Tina with great style and panache, and with great attention paid to the range and flow of the profanities. If he ever auditions for a supporting role in Shameless, I suspect he will be away to a flying start if he repeats this sterling performance.
In the commercial breaks, the number of ads for comparison websites seems to grow daily. There seems to be an unwritten rule that these sort of commercials have to be so awful that you want to throw your remote at the TV, whilst shouting, "Compare that, Mr & Mrs Smug I've Saved Fifty Quid". The absolutely worst one features a sort of Goth-lite young chap, who looks like he should be doing his homework, rather than annoying us during the ad break. He has been cast to tell us how 'cool' the revamped website is, and how easy it is to use. Oh look, how amusing - he's drawn a little smiley face on the palm of his hand. I'd like to slap him with the palm of my hand.
With the number of these adverts now reaching astronomical proportions, it might make good commercial sense to start up a comparison website that compares all the other comparison websites.
Tonight, it is simply a question of who will be evicted with Tommy. It would seem to be a relatively close run thing between LaToya and Coolio, with LaToya expected to be the one to go.
Quote of the day:
Verne: "Why are all the women leaving?"
Ulrika: "Ask all the men."
Yay! Go compare that!
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 6:59 PM
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Blame It On The Chili
CBB6 Day EighteenAt the Chili Cook-Off, held each year in Springfield, Homer Simpson ate this high-powered 'super-chili' derived from a mysterious species of pepper, grown in the wilds of Guatemala.
Homer went off into some sort of trippy state of mind and met a talking coyote who helped him on this trip of trips to find his soul mate.
Naturally, the CBB chili eating contest was never quite going to match up to Homer's journey into the furthest reaches of his mind (not a very distant journey, I'm sure Selma and Patty Bouvier would agree).
In fact, far from taking any housemate on a distant voyage to their psyche, the experience only took them closer to the bathroom, where several housemates felt the need to hover 'just in case' for some time.
Oh! Hold on. What's this? I recognise that manic grin, and the bizarre stare. It must be Davina with a surprise eviction. It has now become traditional that for an hour, Davina persuades us that the housemates know nothing of the upcoming eviction, and expresses excitement at the sense of shock she anticipates will surely follow her plasma screen appearance in their midst.
Then when she appears, the housemates all say that they knew 'something' was up, and had guessed there would be an eviction. A bit of an anti-climax there, Davina.
We also had the traditional moment when the evictee clambers down the steps, to be greeted by universal booing, and the welcoming arms of Davina, who moves the microphone away and mutters, 'Don't worry, it's all just a pantomime' to the now ex-housemate.
Davina, they know! This whole caboodle has been running for nearly ten years now.
Everyone who nominated Ulrika, made her their first choice. She was the first name mentioned by Ben, Coolio, LaToya, Tommy and Verne.
Amongst the reasons for nomination: 'dictating, bossy, used to the spotlight, a teacher, controlling, not a collectivist (guess who said that!), and wearing.' Not especially the kind of bullet points you would put on your CV, but if you're getting 175 grand, I guess you can live with it.
When it came to the point of Michelle's departure, Ulrika had to have the last word. "Be Strong" cried Ulrika, as if Michelle was heading for Guantanamo Bay, rather than a brief rendezvous with an invited Channel Four audience.
Uh-oh Terry. You may have not done yourself many favours with the quote of the day, probably the quote of the series, when you referred to:
"all the thick types who vote on shows like this"
Blame it on the chili. Homer would.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 6:47 PM
Monday, January 19, 2009
Day Seventeen Reviewed (Ulrika, Guitar Hero)
CBB6 Day SeventeenA day of significant change. We saw Michelle undertaking a rather frightening session of aerobics, though obviously this was not as scary as her new false eyelashes - now we know what really happened to the tarantula. It ended up glued to Michelle's eyelids.
Whilst LaToya really began to express herself and take a lead, Ulrika began the day (it was all to change later) walking round the house as if she was carrying a huge sack of coal on her back.
However, the most terrifying image of the day was seeing Tommy walking about covered only in a succession of towels, and finally, some rather too short shorts. Tommy has a lot of hair.
The 'task of the day' had potential. In a sort of 'let's do the show right here' moment, the group were asked to form a band and compose a song, with the lyrics reflecting their time in the house, (or hoose) if you are a fan of Tommy.
However, we were left with another vague feeling that this was (yet another) attempt to force Ben into the front of our attention.
LaToya and Coolio wanted to take the task very seriously indeed - from a musician's perspective. Yet Ulrika (surely she is going tonight?) with no discernible musical talent, still felt that she was the best qualified housemate to take charge. She claimed to be able to play guitar, but had to ask Ben to tell her if he was playing 'notes or chords' and that she was sure she could play along if only he would write down these chords for her.
Later in the 'proper' performance, Ulrika seemed to have no idea whatsoever how to form a chord, or indeed, how to even hold a guitar. All very strange.
The task was very kindly edited, because in real time, there were several stoppages and false handovers between the housemates. These rather painful moments did not appear in the screened version.
In no way 'full of herself', as in Terry's memorable description, Ulrika felt obliged to review the performance (hers was flawless, naturally), and advised us that Tommy got his timing wrong. He's a politician, sister! What did you expect? Prince combined with The Proclaimers?
Quote of the day:
Coolio - "I'd rather be loved than feared."
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 6:32 PM
Sunday, January 18, 2009
How Many Eggs In A Dozen?
CBB6 Day SixteenI am transmitting this thought to the housemates by the use of new science, involving extra sensory perception, CGI, and revolutionary, 21st century, mind waves.
STOP! Stop the absurd and irritating conversations/rants about the desperation you have to leave the 'house within a studio'. You agreed to do this! You were not woken up at 4.00am and taken to Elstree whilst blindfolded and handcuffed. There are no snipers guarding the fences next to Tesco. There are, indeed, no electrified fences. You don't need to dig a tunnel.
All you have to do is follow Mutya's path and simply say, "I think I'll go now, thanks very much." What's that you say? Your fee? The financial penalty clauses for walking out?
You signed the contract. Get on with it.
The edit for the one hour highlight show is carried out with a guillotine. If something doesn't work, it is dropped without explanation. The Men vs Women task can't have been much of a goer as we only saw two of the six 'tasks within a task', and even the ironing, multi-task affair was a bit limp.
In addition, it was all very odd how we skimmed over the point that three of the women couldn't be fussed to get involved with the 'spider in a room but not in a room' aspect. We saw LaToya and Michelle shriek a little, and then the chaps huddled together, and then... nothing happened.
Strange, but it did, of course, ratify the already well known fact (to 50% of the population) that men are, obviously, better than women.
It was possible to warm towards Mutya when she wasn't griping, or wearing that spotty gown. She decided to leave, and did so with dignity, and without the hysterical dramatics of some of her colleagues.
Michelle, yet again, was flooding the bedroom with tears, as she had to go 'because' of Coolio. Except, she didn't go. Again.
LaToya has a remarkable hold over Coolio. He listens, and then follows her advice and instructions to the letter. Incidentally, have you noticed a strange mannerism that Coolio displays when he has a significant point to make? He sits at the table. He draws in a deep breath and makes some 'profound' statement, designed to make everyone else's collective jaws drop. He then can't help but leap up from the table and stride around as his oratory sinks in. He paces about waiting for the reaction, and, of course, this action adds to the dramatic effect, and everyone gets drawn into thinking that he has just said something so important, that the world has stopped turning for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, I have to go off to Wikipedia now. I need to check exactly how many eggs there are in a dozen.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 10:49 AM
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Bowling Ball On Legs
CBB6 Day FifteenAh! Good. We can concentrate on Tina, because we will probably never have to do so again.
First though, we can celebrate Davina's opening line in her preamble, where she urged the contenders to simply "get on with it, you're getting paid".
More than one has seemed to have forgotten that they actually agreed to do this show.
Terry brought his usual voice of common sense to this issue, by remarking that being in the BB house was "a bit like being in rehab - we're being paid to lose weight, let's take advantage of it".
Tommy Sheridan seems to view his participation as a vehicle to promote various socialist causes. Wear the t-shirt, save the world. I'm sure President Chavez of Venezuela will call a national holiday in his country, to honour Red Tommy being clad in a supportive vest yesterday.
Although Davina started well, we had to suffer with her, as the awful pun about 'Mini-Me, Mini-Mimi" slid past the live audience without even a whimper, never mind a giggle. I paid some interest to the closing credits and noted there exists a 'script supervisor'. Listen to me, script supervisor! Puns don't work for laughs. People groan or ignore puns. They don't create laffs-a-go-go under any circumstances. Write her some proper gags.
So we had World War Three over a shopping list (cast your mind back to the opening night - remember how everyone was going to get on, chill, and talk through any problems? Oh yeah..)
Tina, shouting like a fishwife (though I have never heard a fishwife shout, I must confess), was screeching in complaint about the way people speak to each other. "Even if you're f-----g me and paying my mortgage you can't talk to me that way". Mmm nice double standards there.
It is probable that BB had the 'no moaning for an hour' task on standby for such a moment as this, when the gobbier factions were close to losing control altogether.
As so often when there is a prize related to food and drink for an ad-hoc task, the reward looked like it had, suspiciously, been bought in, pre-prepared, from Tesco.
By a strange coincidence, there is an enormous Tesco about fifty yards from the BB production office. I cannot say whether this has anything to do with the matter.... ahem....
Sorry Davina. I'm really sorry to join in with the criticism again, but after Tina ran through the anticipated, but ridiculous, 'delighted to be evicted' routine, your interview was terrible.
After viewing some dramatic low-lights, Tina was clearly and visibly horrified at herself and her behaviour. Davina played her usual response to boorishness, by encouraging the celebration of rudeness, lack of vocabulary and aggression in the face of adversity. "You were very funny", cried Davina.
The Romeo and Juliet debacle was described as "awesome". "You've been a supportive friend - brilliant"
What cobblers.
It was rather cruel, but it is hard to shake from the mind, the image that Coolio suggested, when he said that he wasn't "taking it from a bowling ball on legs."
I fear I shall always recall Tina with that image in my mind.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 12:28 PM
Balloon On A Stick
CBB6 Day FourteenIs this series of Celebrity Big Brother too long? In the 'not famous' version, in the summer, the 'housemates' are usually totally compliant in relation to everything that is asked of them, no matter how taxing a task might be. They are so terrified of being ejected from the house, because that would almost certainly end their bid for lasting fame.
Even the higher profile 'non celebrities' from the decade of summer Big Brother find it hard to sustain anything resembling a career, once they are outside the house. As a consequence, they are virtually self-programmed to stay to the (often) bitter end, to maximise their chances of staying 'famous' for more than fifteen minutes.
The celebrities don't have that fear; they're famous already, and so they don't need the oxygen of publicity that Aisleyne or Nikki seek so voraciously. For the celebrities, it is almost a bonus to be voted out, so there is no real incentive for them to 'play the game'. Literally, in the case of the shopping task, which led to Coolio and Tommy going on strike, and Verne and Michelle giving up (personally I don't blame them).
Perhaps if the whole caboodle was squashed into (maybe?) two weeks, then there may not be time for this "whatever" attitude to sink in. Either that, or they are advised that their personal fee, or their charity donation is at risk if they don't 'join in'.
There was a vain attempt to make Ben appear even a little bit interesting and worthy of some screen time, when he was given the somewhat simple task of scaring someone. He 'hid' behind a chair and emerged, rather than leaped out at Ulrika, and as he did so, he tried to sound like a roaring dragon. Unfortunately, he sounded more like a mouse with a throat infection.
The 'dance on a keyboard' thing worked well (but there is an oddity that LaToya always seems to be given tasks that involve her being tucked away from the group for hours/days at a time, to 'rehearse') and in a surprising twist, it was Mutya that took on the dainty role of dancing along the keyboard (rather cutely, it must be said) and Latoya who had the simpler role of plonking her toe on the bass notes. For all of Mutya's whining and moaning, she does transform into a whole different personality when she undertakes a role or task that she clearly enjoys.
A couple of highlights in an otherwise rather an unmemorable day:
Tina, saying three times in sixty seconds, "I'm not being foony". Too true my dear, too true,
and Terry, who must be a major contender to win, as he can see through the absurdity of the whole experience, plays along, and still manages to come up with some great 'one liners'. As Coolio was, again, trying to swagger and promote his 'gangsta' image, Terry told him he should start his reign of terror with a balloon on a stick. It brought to mind this wonderful image of Coolio striding the mean streets of Compton, and claiming it as his territory, whilst threatening all those who challenged him, with his little balloon.
Marvellous stuff indeed.
remotevison@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 7:37 AM
Thursday, January 15, 2009
It's Your Problem
CBB6 Day ThirteenOK. OK. Maybe it isn't all Coolio's fault, but Terry and Verne both agreed it has gone too far, and that Michelle found it all rather scary.
Whatever, it can't be right to cause a young woman to be permanently on the verge of tears.
Ulrika's u-turn through the day was a marvel to behold. In the morning, attempting to build bridges, she said, "Can we have some talking? Can we have a truce?"
By the end of the day, she was advising Michelle, "Don't even speak to him!"
But it was Tina's insane advice that merited the jaw dropping award of the day. Probably the words Michelle least wished to hear, apart from "we're extending the show by another month" were Tina's bizarre analysis, which included telling Michelle that, "It's your problem". For a few seconds, Michelle tried to maintain equilibrium and nodded gracefully, but it was clear very quickly that this advice was about as welcome as a dinner date at KFC with Coolio would have been.
"I don't want to talk about it", said Michelle. "Oh...ok...", replied Tina, and then proceeded to talk about it even more.
I am trying hard to keep an objective view of the whole bullying/just a bit of fun debate, but it is hard to defend Coolio's weird and unkind words, later in the day, to both Michelle and HRH Ulrika.
We had a 'task of the day' which brought some light relief, a form of focus, and proved to be a conversation starter-upper, but this only lasted until some housemates rebelled and simply didn't bother (hello Tommy & Coolio, Mutya, Verne & Michelle...). To be fair, these groups of tasks were rather feeble, and didn't we just have a 'learn to do something by watching a portable DVD player' a couple of days ago?
The young children running through the house was a rather strange and potentially cruel moment. This seemed to have no point whatsoever, other than to recall the old horror movie 'Children of the Damned', and perhaps to stir up emotions of homesickness and thoughts of family, amongst the housemates. On the other hand, I guess they aren't prisoners, and they all, it would seem, signed up for the $$$$.
Finally, Coolio and Michelle gave us the two best comedy highlights of the day. The Gangsta trying to explain himself to Michelle whilst attempting to twist himself round inside a ridiculously small toy car, was a triumph.
However, the best moment will be repeated many times in 'best of BB' shows for many a year. Coolio announced that his personality had left the building.
"Thank f+++ for that!", responded Michelle.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 7:24 PM
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Jamie Redknapp
CBB6 Day TwelveSeinfeld, the legendary American sitcom (although calling it a sitcom is deeply understating its significance and style) was, it was always said, a 'show about nothing'.
Generally, in a somewhat genius manifestation of clarity of writing, the main story would emerge at the beginning of the show, a whole melange of off shoots would grow in the following twenty minutes, and eventually, all routes led back to the main story for the denouement.
Day twelve in the Big Brother House was all about nothing, but sadly, there were no clever secondary plots, and there was no dramatic climax, unless we count the Michelle 'I'm leaving! No I'm not!' scene, as the big finish to the day's non-events.
In a post-modern tribute to another legend of 1970s showbiz glamour, Coolio joined in the Dressing Gown Fever with his own daywear - a (Primark?) gown in sludgy grey, the colour of which matched the mood in the house.
The nominations were a disappointment, oddly edited, and lacking any sort of tension, and without a commercial break cliffhanger. Perhaps the only surprise was Ulrika's choice of Ben & Latoya (wot not Coolio? no Terry?), but later today we shall see a general lack of surprise at the four nominations, and the now cliched 'delighted to be nominated' routine. This time, from Tina & Mutya.
Without a proper task, the housemates were found to be as moribund as the summer non-celeb crowd can be, when they are left to their own devices. Apart from the now familiar routine of watching Tina pick at herself (this time, the spots on her face), we really only had the Coolio winding up Michelle and Ben imbroglio to fill up the highlights show.
Now, the question - is Coolio 'winding up' or 'teasing' Michelle, or is this an underhand form of bullying, as there is no escape route for Michelle, other than, of course, to demand to be set free and run out into the arms of this chap, of whom she seems so fond (yet a little uncertain of the strength of their relationship)?
I apologise for being Mr Pompous, but I am increasingly heading towards considering Coolio's behaviour falls into the bullying category.
If, in a social environment, or in the workplace, someone keeps making inappropriate remarks, and upsetting the 'receiver', social normality, and common sense, would generally lead to the transgressor backing off, and, we would hope, apologising for the hurt that had been caused. Yet, Coolio, aware that Michelle finds his words and ways deeply uncomfortable, (and we must remember that he has apologised before for the same 'offence') continues to make these remarks, usually when he is bored.
Surely, no decent person can take pleasure in causing a young woman to burst into tears?
Coolio can say, all day and night long, in the diary room, that he is simply, "Telling the truth...", but it has no bearing on the nature of his actions and words whether his telling the truth, or not.
Coolio is not the policeman, or the moral judge, of Big Brother.
It is no use Ben (who increasingly resembles Jamie Redknapp with each passing day) meekly, halfway into the room and halfway out of it, with his toothbrush as his only weapon), telling Coolio he should apologise to Michelle (again).
An apology means little to the bully or the bullied. What he should do is stop.
Despite all the contracts and subclauses and agreements about when fees are payable, the producers may need to consider that they are to provide entertainment, and not necessarily a spectacle.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 6:22 PM
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Foot In Mouth Disease
CBB6 Day Eleven
Stop her! Stop her! In the name of all that is good on this earth, somebody please stop her now!
We were lulled, teased and led to a state of relaxation by the opening shot of Tina using a tissue.
"Hoorah!", cried a grateful nation.
I assumed, (as it turns out, wrongly) that a kindly, sensible, soul had taken Tina aside and 'had a quiet word' with her about her grooming habits.
But no! Here we go, Tina is picking at her ear!
Wait a minute! She's picking at her feet! No, this can't go on.
Hold it! She's biting her feet - and trying to tear off bits of skin.
Now, this is where I may shock you. I am not, in fact, a doctor, or medically qualified in any way.
However, my instinct tells me (I feel you may agree) that it is probably not the greatest display of hygiene to use your mouth to bite random parts of your feet (or indeed any other major parts of the human anatomy), without, as a bare minimum, soaking those same feet in the sort of substance we see those good folk in Holby City or Grey's Anatomy dousing themselves in, before they go and do what they do in their respective operating theatres (or even theaters).
As Tina was in her dressing gown (incidentally, how reassuring to see that Mutya's disrobing of her gown was merely a fleeting fancy - it was back, glued on, yesterday) - yes, as Tina was in her dressing gown, for one passing second, I thought about the romantic scene, back on Merseyside.
Tina and her partner, having had a lovely dinner at a top Liverpudlian diner (ok, fantasise and pretend that such a place may exist), they return to the love nest, and after sticking on a romantic CD (Echo & The Bunnymen's Greatest Hits?) they settle down to do what comes naturally. Tina's partner seeks her precious lips and aches to place a loving kiss on that delicate gob, the size of the Mersey Tunnel, when she whispers in his ear, "Hang on a second luv..." and she whips her big toe into her beak, and proceeds to rip off delicate shavings of skin and nail.
"Right luvver boy, where were we?"
I rather liked Ulrika's description of her feelings when she became aware that Terry had described her as being just a tad high-handed.
"You made a hole in me", she lamented, in a sort of pastiche of dialogue from 'Gone With The Wind'.
Though Vivian Leigh may have had the edge with "Oh! If I just wasn't a lady! What wouldn't I tell that varmint!"
However, Ulrika did bring a sense of drama with her "You could have made me collapse..." riposte.
LaToya may well have just about hit a spot on analysis when she figured that Ulrika is playing a sort of double bluff. Push everyone into thinking you are desperate to get out, so that they do all they can to keep you in. It may work too.
Back, as so often, to Tina. She displayed a marvellously outdated view of the use and purpose of the internet. "You've got to be ----ed up and insecure to use Facebook!" she squawked, seemingly unaware that Ben has 'discovered' his last three girlfriends through the very same network.
This led to the day's best 'one-liner'. When Ben said that Tina was like a battering ram, after her anti-internet rant, Terry replied, "Well she'll never get sponsored by Google now..."
There is though, I suppose, a marketing opportunity advertising cream for verrucas and athletes foot. It doesn't bear thinking about, does it?
# posted by Terence : 7:01 PM
Monday, January 12, 2009
Token Victory
CBB6 Day Ten
Rhinotillexomania! There, I've written it. Just don't ask me to say it, or at least not too often, for it is the medical term for extreme nose picking. I am sorry to introduce this less than welcome subject into our daily meeting, but as Tina continues to shuffle her finger about, deep within her nasal cavities, I thought it might be instructive for us to know what the condition, from which she is clearly suffering, is referred to, when doctors get together at social gatherings.
I was about to launch into a rather lengthy analysis of Tina's desire to continually research her nostrils, but it may be better for all of us if we do not dilly, nor indeed, dally, on the matter, but simply shout at the top of our collective voices:
"GET A TISSUE!"
For a brief moment yesterday, there was a flurry of excitement as we thought a new housemate had been smuggled in, but no - it was only Mutya. The short interlude that caught her without her hoodie dressing gown led us astray.
I had assumed that Mutya had been surgically attached to this increasingly grubby piece of clothing. Perhaps, I thought, it had been stitched to her skin at various crucial points, with the same skill and dexterity that severed limbs are sometimes reattached.
We heard more of Coolio's 'guide to womankind' and we are not improved by having heard it at all. In Coolio's world, men who actively seek the company of women are 'players'. A woman who actively seeks the company of men, is a h*. It was with fatherly pride that Coolio told us that he had taught his children to know the difference between a h*, a b*tch, and a woman. An enlightened man, he is not.
As so often in recent days, the task, and its accompanying dramas, provided the main focus of the day, and, it is worth noting, these tasks are holding the days together in enabling some sort of interest sustaining a 'pre-booked' hour for the highlights show. Without the tasks, there would be very feeble pickings (except in Tina's nose, of course).
Tommy 'football is working class ballet' suddenly turned sullen and flouncy, in the dance rehearsals, whilst Coolio continued his obsession with Michelle and Ben, but neither could detract from what was surely Michelle's finest hour to date. She found her niche and was simply outstanding in joyously leading the team with style and panache. We could see she was enjoying every second, and it was a moment when we were given a glance that this lady has genuine talent.
So... we moved on to the token debacle. A cynical columnist (why are you pointing at me?) might suggest that the awarding of tokens and their subsequent withdrawal was all contrived to drive deeper divisions between the housemates.
It worked.
Whilst Terry more or less shrugged off the whole telling off and reporting back on his 'misdemeanour', it was a gorgeous moment seeing Tina 'ticked off' and her pompous bellowing deflated for a few moments.
She slunk away back to the bedroom, where we were spared the next few moments in viewing terms, but I think we can safely assume that her nostrils took a real pounding.
# posted by Terence : 5:48 PM
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Kettle & The Pot
CBB6 Day NineSurely there has never been, in earlier celebrity versions of BB, such a fixation on the financial rewards that have tempted these 'personalities' into Elstree?
During Mutya's rebellion, she fixated on her fee. "Take my f***ing money!", she cried, to nobody in particular. We can be in little doubt that any of our housemates are in there for the social experiment. Each move in each day, seems to have them making mental calculations of the value inherent in their actions.
Ulrika has made it clear that she is in there purely to gain financial benefit for herself and her family. No shame in that of course, but there are few 'jobs' that any of use would undertake where we are clearly on the edge of meltdown.
Indeed, it is only about three weeks, but if we assume that Ulrika's reaction to being left in the house was genuine (and there is no evidence to the contrary), the question hangs in the air like a dark and menacing rain cloud.... Is it really worth it?
So fare thee well than, Lucy. A pleasant person, no doubt, but her nasal speaking mannerism will no longer be there to grate on our nerves, like the proverbial fingers scraping down a blackboard. If ever you find yourself in a stressful situation, Lucy may not be the best person to turn to for comfort.
"You'll be fiiiiiinnnnnne...." she must have told Ulrika fifty times, as if repeating some mantra from a self-help manual. As she did this, she took to rubbing Ulrika's arm in the manner of a carpenter sanding down a table leg. It would be no surprise if Ulrika woke up on Saturday with bruises down her right arm.
Perhaps we received a tiny little fragment of insight into Coolio's dodgy views of, and behaviour around, women. When Ulrika and Coolio were discussing childhood memories, Coolio revealed that his mother had shown quite considerable violence towards him, and we, as amateur analysts were left with an 'aha!' moment.
Coolio refers to his remarks as 'spirited banter' and stated (in a negative connotation) that women expect to be treated as princesses. No Mr Coolio - just with respect, I reckon.
Sigh... as much as it aches the soul to return to Tina Malone, currently all roads lead back to the loud Liverpudlian. "I'm not being selfish" she announced, and then proceeded to dominate the shopping list debate. Tina, did however, bring a few moments relief to poultry up and down the land when she bellowed that she "won't eat thighs". Well at least I assume she was referring to chickens and turkeys. "So long as there's cornflakes and toast", she exclaimed before stomping off for her eightieth cigarette of the day.
In this rant, Tina also revealed that she anticipates being cast in 'Notting Hill 2'. Reports that Richard Curtis was seen throwing his computer and keyboard into a skip may have been exaggerated.
Ever since man appeared on this planet, and managed to tame, or use, fire, a form of container has been used to heat water. The very word, 'kettle' derives from the Latin 'catillus', meaning 'cauldron'. Indeed, a kettle or cauldron has played a significant part in legend, with many historians believing that the Holy Grail of Celtic and Arthurian legend, was, perhaps, a cauldron, rather than the holy chalice that has made its way into more latter day beliefs.
So it must remain a mystery of gargantuan proportions that Tina has thus far in her life, failed to grasp the knowledge, that today's 'high tech' devices, can not only boil water in a mere couple of minutes but (and wait for this bit Tina) you can re-use the kettle and heat up more water! Indeed you can keep repeating this exercise until you have used up all the water on the planet.
This lack of basic understanding of the whole concept of a kettle can surely be the only reason that she raved like a wailing banshee about Coolio actually using the kettle for that aforementioned two minutes to enable him to warm water to wash himself.
Tina could pick a fight with herself in an empty room.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 2:49 PM
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Coolio & Cicero
CBB6 Day EightThe paparazzi part of the convoluted task collapsed into a sobbing heap of nothingness.
Little has ever evoked the warning sirens of the pitfalls of 'celebrity' than the knowledge that Lucy needed a magnifying glass to establish that one of the 'names in the crane', was none other than Nikki Grahame. Poor Nikki seemed utterly devastated that nobody recognised her as she drifted away below the horizon (well, below the tarpaulin anyway).
As the crane rose, she had all the expectation of a member of the Royal Family, with all the self confidence that they have, as they emerge from the limousine and prepare to pull a cord, and unveil a plaque stating that this 'leisure centre' was opened by HRH Somebody-or-other, before the local hooligans turn it into the place where they congregate in the early evening, to sniff shoe polish and marker pens, and to write 'Jez 4 the Gooners 4evah' on the walls.
As the crane lowered Nikki had more of the look of an extra who had once had a three second non-speaking part in the second series of the Royle Family.
Staying with the task for a moment (I apologise, I know it was arduous viewing), LaToya brought back memories of H out of Steps with her determined Jayne
Torvill styled zeal with which she approached her ice skating bonanza. Tommy the Socialist though was less Christopher Dean, and more Christopher Robin.
When seeking inspiration for some philosophical reflections on life and its mysteries, Tina "get yer cheque, go 'ome" Malone never fails to deliver. Still demanding that she is at the very epicentre of all life in Elstree, the UK, and the infinity of the universe, Tina reassured us that she would never get to the point where she was annoying anyone. She would recognise it before anyone needed to point it out, and immediately desist from the behaviour or withdraw from the situation. How her colleagues kept from leaping on her and stuffing one of her over-sized curlers into her over-sized gob is a mystery that may well have sociologists scratching their heads in bewilderment, for generations to come.
Back in Ancient Rome, Cicero, the philosopher, studied the works of the old Greek thinkers and posited the theory that contempt for women is caused by an underlying fear. Misogyny, some may call it, but there are differences of opinion as to what exactly generates this fear. Is it an anxiety of rejection? Has the chap had some heartbreaking experience that caused this need to try and keep the woman 'in her place'?
Coolio behaves oddly around women. It would take an army of analysts to propose a theory as to why he both can't bear to be more than an arms length away from one, yet then uses that closeness to make the woman feel as uncomfortable as he can manage, without actually breaking any laws.
His fumbling around Mutya was awkward and embarrassing, and if he had behaved like that almost anywhere outside an air conditioned tv studio, it might not have been 'laughed off' (albeit uncomfortably) quite so readily.
remotevision@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 1:43 PM
Friday, January 09, 2009
Tina & The Face Cream
CBB6 Day Seven So... Michael Barrymore's career summed up in a ten second sequence. No audience, Barrymore waving manically into the distance and nobody noticed. Ah, how soon we forget.
Incidentally, which advert is scoring highest to gain the award for the worst commercial aired around the country during Celebrity Big Brother? I appreciate that the ads are different depending on the region, but I'm guessing we are all getting the cringe-making one for Norwich Union in which a bloke in a garage chucks a few items to another bloke, and then this second bloke 'hilariously' dons a wig that even Elton John would throw into the incinerator. It's irritation quotient is high because of the grating assumption that we are all so stupid that we are taken in by the context of bloke number one, not actually being a bloke at all, but a sort of representation of the concept of Norwich Union. This representation is not anything or anyone in the physical sense, but an emotion, a feeling, an abstract - called 'Happy'.
No wonder they're changing the name of the company. Aviva is Hebrew and means 'Spring' or 'Renewal', which possibly has a bit more worldwide appeal to it than 'Norwich' which means 'second rate football team' apparently.
Tina's appearance was much improved by the addition of a barrel of cream slapped on to her face. That must have been one hell of a blackhead.
Tina continues to exhibit personality traits that, if she lived next door to you, would have you abandoning your house and rushing away to join a commune in the Hebrides. I suppose we all see ourselves as the centre of our own little worlds, but Tina sees herself at the very core of not only her own universe, but everyone else's universe too. Nothing happens, or at least holds any significance, until we hear Tina's take on it, and how it affects her. If one housemate says how he or she is feeling, this only has any importance for Tina in that it gives the opportunity for her to exclaim that her feelings are more intense, or more extreme, or of more depth.
At one point today, I had to reach for my remote control, and check I hadn't accidentally hit the pause button, as Tina suddenly emerged from the Diary Room (swelled with pomp and grandiosity) and said in slow motion, "I....have....to....read....the....instructions....for....the....shopping....task...."
I wouldn't want to behind her in the queue at Tesco. "I'll....just....get....my....clubcard....it's....in....my....purse....which....is....in....my
....handbag...."
Tina's other significant moment of the day was when she furnished us with information that I really do wish she had kept to herself. It involved matters of a very personal nature related to her ummmm... reaction to seeing Chesney Hawkes. It proved to be another very good reason not to be behind her in the queue at the supermarket.
In order to reinvent himself as a fine and upstanding member of both family life and the community, Coolio reassured LaToya that he was not one of these men who fathered lots of children by a host of different women.
"I've got six kids but not by six mothers", he said.
"Two?, asked Latoya, inquisitively.
"Four", said our man outta Compton, with, I suspect, a slightly diminished air.
remotevison@gmail.com
# posted by Terence : 7:12 PM
